


Child of Ashes

by Picaresca (arda_fata)



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Child Abandonment, Daddy Issues, Gen, Grandmothers, Hard childhood, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Political Alliances, Politics, Succession Issues, plenty of issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-08-12 03:49:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7919386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arda_fata/pseuds/Picaresca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One last child was born in the House of Fëanor... </p><p>One last child who turned out to be the daughter Nerdanel had always yearned for...</p><p>But in a world filled with darkness the child of ashes will have to fight in order to survive.  As the political climax grows more tense with each passing hour in Valinor, everything and everyone can become a weapon, a player, or a pawn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Daughters do not inherit._

_That is a simple, well-known, unquestioned fact._

_An heir will inherit, either a fortune or a crown, while an heiress must either win it or marry into it._

_Girls do not follow into their father’s role… that is not how inheritance and lineage works._

_Grandfather to father to son to grandson… that is the rule._

_The lineage is male._

_Is it unfair?_

_Yes, to some, it may be…_

_It is the reason my uncle rules, instead of my aunt, even though she is the older of the two…_

_It is the reason why my father and uncle competed for my grandfather’s attention and his throne…_

_It was unfair to my female cousins, and that is why they left, for realms of their own…_

_Not to me, however…_

_Had I been conceived a boy…_

_Had I been born a son…_

_Had I been in line for the throne…_

_I would be dead._


	2. Chapter 2

He had never been negligent when it came to his daughters and grandchildren… not until these last two arrived. He was rarely home, and when he was, he was too tired to play with and care for them. He was too busy, as were all the Aulëndili, building the vessels for the las lights of Laurelin and Telperion. No one knew if this would drive away the darkness, but it was the elves’ only hope.

He missed his eldest daughter in the forge, and even though he will not admit it or even allow himself to finish the thought, he also missed his son in law and grandsons in the forge. All seven of them had covered the basics, although only Nelyo, Moryo, and Curvo had finished their apprenticeship. Only Curvo had chosen to make the forge his craft.  
They are gone now, though.

All of his boys… gone, against the designs of the Valar and with their hands and fëar covered in blood.

What had gone wrong?

He did not want to look back… he was certain if he did, the dangerous signs he had missed would slap him in the face. All the ways he could have acted to prevent this would follow and stab him in the heart.

The Light had gone… and Nerdanel had hurried to her husband and sons.

What had happened in there and on the march to Alqualondë, she would not tell them. The one single clear thing was that she had lain with Fëanáro… the proof was huddled asleep in a tight ball next to the kitchen fire.

“Why is that child covered in sot? Why is she on the ground?” He asks his wife, Alastegiel, with a gruff voice and barely able to keep his eyes open.

“She fell asleep there, she is always close to the fires,” she told him, laying a bowl of stew in front of him and glass of wine.

He began to eat, without taking his eyes off the small frame. Too thin… far too thin, certainly too small… all of her brothers had been large sturdy boys at her age. Her size did not come as a surprise, given the meager rations from his house (they had to be careful with the food… who knew when they would be able to grow food again) the lack of light, and her father’s absence during the time she had been in her mother’s belly. She would never be tall… if that sickly creature made into adulthood that was, and everyone doubted she would.

Nerdanel herself was very weak after the pregnancy and the delivery.

The news of the massacre of Alqualondë had reached them not long after the coming of the dark… just six weeks. Nerdanel had arrived, alone, shaken to the core and scared three weeks afterwards. It had taken just one look into her eyes for her parents to know she was with child.

She had been strayed from her husband before the darkness, and the news came to them as a shock. When Russawendë had asked her older sister if the child was her Fëanáro’s, Nerdanel had only stared at her sister’s protruding belly and asked if hers was her husband’s. His two daughters had stopped speaking since that moment.

In the darkness, work had doubled for everyone and Nerdanel had taken the added burden without a word and had glared at whomever it was that tried to take work away from her hands “because of her condition”. Her answer had always been the same “I gave birth to seven sons, I am strong enough to do this without help.”

However, as her belly grew, her strength diminished, and soon she was barely able to leave her bedroom. He could see the frustration and anger in her eyes as her body stopped obeying her orders. Things had carried on like that until she found herself unable to leave the bed and was completely under her Alastegiel’s care.

Her baby had come early, in spite of all of the care of Nerdanel and her mother. A tiny thing that had cried little and moved even less that Nerdanel held close to her all the time, and that she had called Morynwendë. Mahtan shook his head tiredly at the morbidly accurate choice of name “maiden of darkness”.

The female child that Nerdanel and Fëanáro had wanted since Maitimo had been born had finally arrived… in the worst possible circumstances. They had not expected the pitiful creature to live for more than a few months… but that had been 8 years ago.

Contrary to their expectations, Nerdanel had continued to weaken giving birth. Pregnancy, sorrow, and darkness had taken their toll on his daughter.

Russawendë on the other hand, had given birth to a boy without any trouble and had gone back to work just a week afterwards. Bellsulion was a strong sturdy boy of nine that would soon begin his schooling.

They should have Morynwendë straight to the care of Irmo. They had tried, but Nerdanel had outright refused and continued to do so, even when she could not take care of herself, much less of a child. The girl had no place in his household.

Russawendë hated the child openly and Alastegiel was cold and indifferent at the best. The worst part was that he could not blame them. He had caught himself glaring at the child from time to time unconsciously. Not to mention he had already tossed two apprentices out after he caught them sending the child away with a kick.

 _Damn you, Fëanáro, for I fear your daughter will pay for all your sins_ , he finished his meal and lifted the little redhead girl in his arms to get her upstairs to her mother’s bedroom. She had flinched away from his touch and he could not help wondering how she was treated when he was not around… better to not even think about that. He was far too tired for rage.

He pushed Nerdanel’s door open with his free hand and walked to his daughter’s bed. She barely stirred, only lifting his eyes when they entered.

Mahtan looked away to hide the hatred in his eyes when he remembered how she had been. How could this scrawny, weakened creature be his strong, happy daughter?

He placed the girl in the bed and she huddled inside the covers and into her mother’s arms. They would not live much longer… at least Nerdanel would not. They had intended to send her to Irmo after her daughter’s birth, but she would not have made it through the journey.

He turned away and heard Nerdanel whispering sweet nothings to her child before he left to room.

Mahtan wanted to love the girl, he really did… little Morynwendë was not guilty of anything; she deserved to be loved and cared for like any child her age. But there was something so uncannily akin to her father in her, something that reminded them all so much of Fëanáro, especially in her eyes, that he could not help feeling hostility towards her.


End file.
